


С ДНЕМ РОЖДЕНИЯ, ПРИНЦЕССА

by IohannaFacTotum



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IohannaFacTotum/pseuds/IohannaFacTotum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cain discovers it's Abel's birthday, he finds it hard to show he cares without... well, showing he cares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nicole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicole/gifts).



Birthdays were not the kind of thing that Cain usually worried himself with. Everyone had one, it was no big deal. He’d never considered them worth celebrating, worth any notice at all really, until something very… unsettling happened aboard the Sleipnir one day as the Reliant’s borderline legendary team stepped out of Room 314.

“Hey, Abel!” That oh-so-familiar and oh-so-loathed voice came, quite unwelcome, from the other end of the hallway.

As Cain looked up to the source, Praxis’s light smile turned quickly into a frown, and his raised hand fell back to his side. However, Abel must have been smiling at the Tiberius’s Fighter, because that little smirk quickly returned and he finished in a tone that must have been directed at Cain, what with the slight scoff in it. “Happy birthday!”

Cain was taken aback for a moment. The usual sneer he met that one-eyed nuisance with most days turned into a confused scowl and a quick glance at his Navigator. 

Abel was smiling right back at Praxis, but it was apparent from the look on his pretty little face that he, too, had been taken by surprise. “Oh… ah, thanks!” he called back. He didn’t have a chance to say much more before Cain grabbed his wrist and lead him down the opposite way more forcefully than intended, despite all protests by Abel. 

The two split ways soon after to attend separate briefings and training sessions, and did not see each other again until midday. They passed each other in the main hallway, and Abel smiled and opened his mouth to speak.

Before he could utter a single word, Cain brushed past him and, with a smirk tugging at his lips, murmured something in a language foreign to Abel.

“С Днем Рождения, принцесса.”

Abel had heard Cain speak in this language before, but he didn’t recognize any of the words uttered by the Fighter today. But the last word sounded something like…

“…Princessa?” Abel repeated. The word was similar, certainly, but he lacked the harsh accent that rolled so flawlessly from Cain’s tongue.

Cain didn’t answer, didn’t even turn, as he hurried down the hall. Abel watched him go in silence, left standing there too confused to be offended.

Another similar thing happened around mid-afternoon, between a briefing and some quality time working on the new configurations for the Starfighters. The two passed each other again, and this time, Cain grinned at Abel and raised a hand in greeting. Abel also noticed a shoulder bag slung around him.

“С Днем Рождения, принцесса,” he chimed again, and as he made to pass Abel, the Navigator grabbed his arm and forced him to a halt.

“First of all, stop calling me ‘Princess,’” he started, a stern look on his face. “And second, what exactly does that mean? Why do you keep saying it? …What’s in that bag?”

Cain simply raised an eyebrow at the shorter man and shrugged his arm away. “Get back to work, princess,” he retorted before carrying on down the hall, leaving Abel more frustrated than before.

Hours of engine configuration later, Abel made his way back to room 314 for the night, glad to be away from the other Navigators, Keeler in particular. They’d been wishing him happy birthday since he showed up, and Keeler had taken the extra step and brought him a gift. It wasn’t much, just a medium-sized book on (what else?) engineering. It was all very sweet, but he didn’t particularly appreciate the amount of attention it had brought him.

He assumed that, as per usual, Cain would not be in the room yet. He’d be late, like most nights, busy with some virtual reality training or something of the sort. Perhaps he would get an hour or two to sit back and take a peek into his new book. Maybe he could even get a warm shower before the Fighter got back…

His train of thought was cut short, however, when the door to the room he shared with Cain slid open to reveal quite a surprise.

Bright green and electric blue streamers lined the walls and crossed the ceiling in dips and loops and little trains, attached with spots of black electrical tape. And there, on Abel’s bed, was a small vanilla cupcake on a plate topped with what looked like buttercream icing and little star-shaped sprinkles.

Abel heard the door beep and slide open again to reveal a very drained-looking Cain who looked around the room with nonchalance. “What’s this all about?”

Abel whirled to look at him, then back at the streamers and cupcake, and again at Cain. “It’s… Cain, did you do all of this?!”

“Hmm?” The Fighter peered down at Abel, scrutinizing him with dark eyes, observing every move he made and every detail of his expression to garner his response. “You think I’d go to all this trouble? It was probably Praxis.”

“Cain, Praxis can’t get into our room,” Abel shot back, folding his arms across his chest and arching a black eyebrow.

“Keeler, then.”

“I’ve been with Keeler all day. Couldn’t have been him.”

Cain growled in frustration and plopped down on his bed, which was pressed closely to Abel’s still, staring up at the streamer-covered ceiling. “Well, I dunno, Princess, don’t look at me!” he barked.

Abel smiled a bit and sat down on his own bed, picking the cupcake up from the plate and studying it wordlessly for a moment. He glanced at Cain and caught the Fighter’s eyes on him again before quickly returning to the ceiling.

The Navigator couldn’t help himself – he let a light chuckle escape his lips before taking a bite into the small confection. It was softer, fresher than he’d expected, and nearly too sweet for him to handle.

When he spotted Cain eyeing him again, he grinned and held the cupcake out. “Care for a bite?”

Cain looked him up and down, then sat up and scooted next to him. He leaned down and took a bite large enough to leave the remainder of the cupcake collapsing in Abel’s hands from the weight of the icing.

“’S good,” he mumbled through a mouthful of sugar and crumbs.

Abel grimaced and dumped the remainder of the dessert back onto the plate and nodded. “Yeah… it was.” He looked back up at Cain with an unreadable expression. “Whoever left it here for me must really be hoping I have a happy birthday, right, Cain?”

“It’s your birthday?”

Abel sighed and moved the plate along with the demolished cupcake bits onto the floor and curled up in his bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin and looking around again at the meager decorations. He smiled and hummed contentedly when he felt Cain plop down beside him again and wrap an arm around his thin waist.

“In that case, С Днем Рождения, принцесса…”


	2. EXTRA

Cain balanced precariously on top of several boxes, one stacked on the other, high enough to give him access to the ceiling. A roll of black electrical tape dangled from his mouth and a single strip of it was stuck to one hand, a bright green streamer in the other.

“C’mon… just a bit closer…” he murmured to himself around the roll, reaching ever farther for the intersection between the ceiling and the wall. The same streamer had already been attached to the wall and ceiling in several places with the tape, dangling just to his liking, and too perfect to mess up now…

It had taken him hours to get this far. He’d missed a briefing and was dreading hearing from Encke about it later…

But for now he had to concentrate.

He could feel the storage units rocking beneath him and he cursed under his breath. This whole thing was a bad idea. A stupid, bad idea. And a waste of time he could be spending in the VR training room. Since when did he give a rat’s ass about birthdays anyways?

Since that fucking prick Praxis did, that’s when.

And so he leaned a bit further, trying desperately to reach the wall without moving his center of gravity from where it was at the moment…

The he heard it. A light crack! He felt his support system crumble beneath him and he could only watch in horror as the streamer, one end still in his hand, pull away from the wall, one section at a time, until more than half of his handiwork lay around him.

“…FUCK!”

It took several minutes of kicking the streamer and sulking on the bed before Cain finally went at it again, rearranging the boxes more carefully each time he moved them, until streamers hung all over the place. In the end, it didn’t cost him more than a few bruises and scrapes – no more than he would have gotten in an everyday Fighter brawl.

Cain stood in the center of the room, looking around and admiring his handiwork proudly. He took a deep breath and sighed, leaving again to head towards the kitchen in hopes that a cook would see fit to help him with a small gift.

**Author's Note:**

> There are cupcakes in space. 
> 
> I am so sorry...
> 
> Further note, this was a request from a friend. :3


End file.
